31. Avery
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Avery
My eyes feel dry and scratchy as they slowly open. The hair on Owen’s arm rubs against my cheek where my head is using his bicep as a pillow.
His large body is firmly tucked in behind me with his other arm draped over my middle. Our legs are even twined together.
Our bodies are wrapped as close together as my heart feels to him after yesterday. I didn’t know what to expect when I walked in his room yesterday afternoon and found him completely zoned out and staring at the ceiling.
Seeing him open up was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever witnessed. I know his trust isn’t something he gives out freely, so being on the receiving end of everything he shared feels precious in a way I can’t quite wrap my head around.
At some point during the night, Owen must have grabbed an extra blanket to drape over us because we’re lying on top of his comforter in our same clothes from yesterday.
I know today is going to be hard for him, but I hope last night will make the weight a little easier for him to bear. I’m glad I could play a small part in all of this, but I’m sure their family will want to be together today. Without me.
It hurts to think about, but I’m not a part of this family. There have been moments over the last few months where it has felt like I am, but I’m not.
Not really. I’m leaving, and their lives are going to go on without me.
This thought alone makes it difficult for my lungs to get enough air.
I hate this.
I start the slow process of peeling myself away from the gorgeous man wrapped around me. I barely make it two inches before his hold on my waist tightens and he pulls me back against his chest.
“Where are you going?” he grumbles against my neck.
“Back to my place,” I say.
“Why?”
“I figured your family would want to have some time together today.”
He’s quiet for a minute, so I think my assumptions were correct, until he says, “Stay.” He presses his lips to the skin just below my ear, and whispers, “Please.”
What am I supposed to say to that?
Not that I want to be anywhere else. If he wants me here, then that’s where I’ll be. “Okay,” I say, letting myself relax back into him.
For this day being what it is, it’s been a surprisingly good day. Many, many tears have been shed. I’ve seen more hugs shared between this wonderful family than I thought was possible within one twenty-four-hour timespan.
Losing Olivia could have torn them all apart, but it only strengthened their ties to one another. Their family is beautiful, and I feel blessed to bask in it for little while.
I have heard so many stories about Olivia. I actually feel like I know her, at least in some way. The memories they’ve all shared feel a piece of their souls, they’re letting me get a glimpse of.
All of them have told story after story throughout the day. It’s clear they’re trying their best to focus on all the wonderful memories they have, instead of the heartbreak of not having her here with them anymore.
Everyone stared in shock when Owen told his first story of the day. He smiled, reminiscing about a time in high school when he helped Liv sneak back into the house after missing curfew.
Shana looked from her son to me. Tears glistened in her eyes as she mouthed, “Thank you.”
I wanted to tell her it wasn’t me. It was him. He’s the one trudging through the trenches of his grief and finding his way to the other side.
I settled for a small smile and a nod.
Now, we’re all gathered around the dinner table at the guys’ parents’ house ready to eat. We’re having waffles, sausage, and eggs.
Lyla told me having breakfast for dinner was her mom’s favorite, and they would cook it together all the time.
My dad and I would make pancakes or omelets for dinner quite often, so cooking this meal with everyone here is healing in a way for me, too. It makes me feel my dad’s presence a little more than I normally can.
“Here,” Will says, placing a fluffy waffle on my plate.
“Thanks,” I say, turning to smile at him. We both take a deep breath, eyes still locked on one another. He blinks a few times before passing the plate of waffles on to his dad, who’s sitting on his other side.
Lyla practically dives across her grandpa’s lap, grabbing a waffle of her own. Everyone starts laughing as she plops it down on her plate.
“What? I’m hungry,” she says with a shrug, which only makes everyone laugh quietly again.
“Maybe just use your words and ask next time,” Will says, shaking his head.
Soon the table is bustling with conversation as everyone dives into their food, which is absolutely delicious. Lyla was spot on when she said her grandma was a wonderful cook.
Will’s hand grips my thigh under the table. I turn to look at him, and he leans in a little closer.
He’s close enough that it doesn’t look like he’s going to kiss me or anything, but if he talks quietly enough, I’ll be the only one that can hear him.
“Thank you for being here today,” he says
“Of course,” I whisper because that feels like the right volume to use for this conversation that’s just between us.
His eyes dart toward Owen who’s sitting on the opposite side of the table.
“And thank you for being there for him last night.” Will swallows heavily as he blinks several times in quick succession. “I haven’t seen him like this since before we found out Liv was sick.”
His words make my throat tighten. “I’m glad I could be there. He seems… lighter today,” I say.
Will nods. “He is.” His grip on my leg tightens again. “Just… thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
“Yeah, I do,” he says before pulling his hand back to rest on the edge of the table. He gives me a subtle smile before taking a bite of egg.
I look down at my plate, lost in my own thoughts. When I look back up, I find Shana looking at me once again.
There’s a glimmer in her gaze as she moves her eyes between Will and me. She smiles, looking back down at her plate.
Damn… that woman is perceptive as fuck.
How would she feel if she knew what was really going on between me and all three of her sons?
I try to shove the thought away, but it’s not going anywhere. For the rest of the meal, I keep wondering how she would feel about it, what she would say.
It probably shouldn’t matter to me. She isn’t my mom. But it does matter to me.
It really does.